


Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

by thewaythatwerust



Series: Then, Now, Always. [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Dirty Talking Bucky Barnes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminization, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Steve Rogers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Period Typical Attitudes, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Rimming, Size Difference, Stucky - Freeform, oblivious idiots in love, pre serum steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-11-08 08:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20832437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaythatwerust/pseuds/thewaythatwerust
Summary: Steve's whole world begins and ends with Bucky Barnes.His heart constricts painfully every time he sees Bucky with a dame on his arm; every fiber of his body thrumming with envy. He isn't sure what it means, exactly. He doesn't know what being a fella is supposed to feel like. He doesn't know what being a dame feels like. He just knows he wants Bucky look at him the way he looks at them. To put pretty dresses and stockings on and let Bucky slowly peel them off him. To feel Bucky press into him like he does with his special dates.To be Bucky's... girl.





	1. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He swallows thickly around a suddenly dry tongue. Glancing furtively at the clock, his mind races. Bucky won't be home for another hour at least. And it's not like anyone would ever know...

  
Bucky had shown up on Steve's doorstep the day of Steve's ma's funeral, and he just never really left.

He would duck out and return armed with groceries and cook their meals, making sure Steve ate at least twice a day, knowing he would forget to eat if unprompted. He'd clean the dishes and put on the radio, chattering away idly to fill the silence in the small apartment left by Steve's ma's absence. He would read the newspaper to Steve as he laid listlessly on the sofa, swallowed up in silence, trying to process his grief.  
  
In the many weeks that followed, Bucky always made excuses to stay the night: "_It's too dark to head out now, Steve, I might trip down those steps, break my neck and then who would make ya breakfast tomorrow?_" or "_It's a bit chilly out and I forgot m'coat - can't risk a cold, might pass it on to you, punk,_" and "_Bit tired, Stevie, all that cleaning really takes it outta a fella, I think I'll just take the couch tonight._"

After a few months, it became the routine Steve anchored himself to, one that slowly drew him out of the darkness until the weight in his chest became manageable, and the fog in his head started to clear.  
  
One morning, as he pushed eggs around a pan, Bucky offhandedly told Steve about his recent visit home. He had laughed and said that his ma was enjoying not picking up after him, that him staying with Steve was giving her a nice break, so they should probably just make it permanent.

Steve smiled and hummed noncommittally, knowing the real reason for the constant companionship: Bucky just didn't want him to be alone. But he was grateful for it and didn't push the subject. He knew Bucky would leave when he was ready, when he was sure Steve would be okay on his own. Steve also knew he would miss Bucky's constant presence in his life like he would miss the heart in his chest, but until then, he would just treasure every moment they had together, and worry about later, later.

The next day, Bucky disappeared as soon as the sun was up. He reappeared an hour later, a large trunk in tow, a wide grin splitting his lips. "Now we're living together, Stevie, I really think I should have the bigger room. After all, I do take up more space."

Steve's shocked expression had quickly dissolved into one of joy. He'd wrapped his arms around his best friend and hugged him until Bucky laughed and shoved him away playfully.  
  
After a while, the memories of his ma that coated every surface of the small apartment, stirring sadness and pain, started to bleed away. Those dark empty places inside him began to fill with laughter and light, and the impossible force of nature that was James Buchanan Barnes.  
  


. . .

  
Living with Bucky certainly isn't without its quirks; he never takes out the trash, he always forgets to shut the icebox, and every morning he leaves a few crumbs of bread out for the colony of ants that live in the walls. But leaving a gal's underthings tucked behind a couch cushion was a new one to add to the list.

Steve's mouth presses into a tight seam, staring at the dark stocking dangling from his left hand.

He pushes his sketchpad aside to inspect the garment more closely. Stockings are a luxury item not many can afford, given the current rationing. His mind churns, wondering what could have prompted a gal to abandon such a prized possession. And just one? He frowns thoughtfully.

Fishing down behind the worn cushion where he had happened across it while looking for his errant pencil, he smiles triumphantly. Hooking the second stocking, he brings it to rest in his lap with its twin.  
  
His teeth snag his lower lip. He can count on his fingers the number of times girls had come to the apartment. On precisely two fingers.

One, trying to salvage a disastrous double date that Bucky had orchestrated, assuring Steve that "a small nightcap on the couch with a little necking would make it all worthwhile, you'll see." Bucky seemingly oblivious to the fact the only person either skirt was interested in necking with wasn't the third wheel.

Two, last week when...  
_Oh.  
_  
. . .

Sound travelled easily in the small space, and when unusual noises woke him, the apartment still dark, Steve had called out to Bucky, hoping it was him rather than a stranger up to no good. When too much time passed with no answer, he reluctantly climbed from his bed and padded out of his small room, rubbing his eyes blearily.

A flurry of movement drew his gaze. Bucky was straightening in front of the two-seater, scrubbing a hand through his hair as a petite blonde attempted to smooth down her blue dress, a flustered look on her face, her hair askew.

Steve's stomach had rolled sickeningly, watching as Bucky murmured something in the blonde's ear and ushered her to the door hurriedly. An awkward silence hung between them as Bucky turned back to him with pink cheeks. "Sorry pal didn't mean to wake you." Bucky's voice had been all strained apology.

Steve's eyes caught and narrowed on Bucky's pants, at the evidence of his arousal straining against the front of his trousers, half-hidden behind untucked shirttails. He shook his head and twisted away from Bucky. He trudged back to his bed and climbed in, all traces of warm slumber gone, having left a cold emptiness in its stead. He'd squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to block out the image of Bucky -disheveled and aroused- and the desperate feeling it had unfurled within him.

. . .  
  
  
Steve's fists tighten around the stockings in his hand. He knows Bucky has a right to bring his dates here, it is his home as much as Steve's, after all. But he hadn't given much thought much about what that would entail, exactly. It had been the first time, to his knowledge, that Bucky has brought a dame home, and, his brow furrows, it probably won't be the last. 

An image of the blonde on their threadbare couch rises unbidden in his mind, of Bucky unhooking the clasps and slowly easing the sheer fabric down, exposing the warm, naked flesh underneath, of Bucky kissing her exposed thighs before pressing into her, a low moan rumbling from his throat.

Steve's whole body flushes at the thought.  
  
He had known for a long while that his interests and Bucky's are at odds, romantically speaking. He loves Bucky like a best friend, of course, but also something _more_. Something _forbidden_.

He can't stop his eyes from tracing the strong line of Bucky's back and admiring the lean muscles in his arms when he flops down, shirtless, on the couch in summer, complaining of the heat. He tries not to stare at Bucky's plush lower lip when he juts it out, feigning a pout at Steve's refusal to go on yet another double date with him, wondering hungrily what it would be like to tug it gently between his teeth. He wonders what Bucky tastes like... his mouth, and other more secret places, too.

Steve's whole world begins and ends with Bucky Barnes.  
  
Bucky's love life, on the other hand, is a carousel of ever-revolving dames: a new skirt every other night to go dancing with, to make time with.

On the one hand, he is thankful none of them last more than one night. The thought of Bucky necking -and more- with many different birds is, in some ways, better than him going steady with just one. Bucky giving his body to an endless sea of girls is hard enough for Steve to cope with, he isn't sure he could bear Bucky giving his heart to one.

His own heart constricts painfully every time he sees Bucky with a dame on his arm, every fiber of his body thrumming with envy. He isn't sure what it means, exactly. He doesn't know what being a fella is supposed to feel like. He doesn't know what being a dame feels like. He just knows he wants Bucky look at _him_ the way he looks at _them_. To put pretty dresses and stockings on and let Bucky slowly peel them off him. To feel Bucky press into him like he does with his special dates. To be Bucky's... girl.

He throbs painfully at the thought, suddenly aware he's grinding the forgotten stockings into his lap, pressing against his cock with urgent motions.

Steve is panting as he stands, trying to distance himself from his thoughts. _Stupid stockings._ Striding toward the trash bin, he balls up the dark fabric to throw inside but stops short. Staring at the cloth in his hand, he stills, his breath hitching in the back of his throat. 

_What if_...

He swallows thickly around a suddenly dry tongue. Glancing furtively at the clock, his mind races. _Bucky won't be home for another hour at least. And it's not like anyone would ever know_... His heart thumps painfully in his chest, echoing harshly in his head, but his mind is set. 

He returns to the couch on suddenly wobbly legs. Taking a steadying breath, shaky hands fumble with his belt and push his trousers over his hips, letting them fall and pool at his feet.  
  
  
He pushes his foot awkwardly into the bunched fabric. Trembling fingers pull the sheer material up slowly, carefully. Static electricity arcs the fine, light hairs on his legs up before they're smothered down, trapped in a dusky prison. An entirely different form of electricity flows through his body as he glides the rest of the silk as far as it will go, the dark band coming to rest mid-thigh. He repeats the process for his other leg, savoring the feeling of the fine threads brushing over his skin.

There's nothing to clip them to, but his thighs are thick enough, just, to keep them mostly in place. He runs his hands over his stocking-clad skin, relishing the texture under his fingertips.  
  
Steve hurries to the mirror that hangs on the wall opposite the couch. It's old, with a crack running down the left side, and a large chip missing from the top corner, but it will do just fine for now. His flushed cheeks and eyes dark with desire are shining back at him. He pauses. Although hanging low on the wall to accommodate his modest stature, the glass isn't low enough for him to see what he craves.

Determined eyes search the room, coming to rest on a large trunk tucked away in the corner, housing a stack of books almost as tall as he is. He hesitates. _Bucky's trunk._ He bites his lip, feeling a fresh wave of heat dance over his skin. Steeling his shoulders, he sets about moving the books. _Bucky will never know. He won't hurt it -he'd wager those books weigh more than he does- and he'll put it all back just as he found it in a moment or two._

Tugging his make-shift step stool toward the mirror takes considerable effort, and wheezing starts to burn the edges of his breaths. It is only his desperate need that stops him from giving up and collapsing onto the floor. When the case is close enough, he falls back against it, sucking in ragged breaths, willing his rapid heart to slow. After several minutes -when his dizziness abates and his breathing evens out- he stands, and climbs carefully onto the trunk.   
  
His breath leaves him again in one low, slow exhale.

Steve can't stop staring at his reflection. The dark fabric makes his skin look paler than it is, but not in a sickly way. He looks... soft, delicate._ Pretty_. Steve rubs his legs together, experimentally, and moans at the sensation. He pushes up on his toes in an effort to see a little more. _If he had heels on he wouldn't need to stretch._ The thought brings more color to his cheeks and heat lower down.

Eyes searching the cracked glass, his gaze travels up from his legs and frowns. His knit shirt and undershirt are hanging low, hiding the tops of his new treasures. He shrugs out of the offending garments quickly and lets them drop, trembling slightly as cold air kisses heated skin. 

He chews on his lower lip. Now exposed, Steve notices the wetness marking the front of his briefs. _Well, that just won't do._ He pushes the tight fabric down -careful to not let it touch his stockings- and kicks them away with a dark foot.  
  
He gapes at his reflection. Fully erect, his small cock -not much more than a handful- stands proudly between his hips, curving up from a sparse patch of light hair. Wetness glistens on the tip, catching the afternoon light. He has always been self-conscious of his cock size, but now, framed with the stockings, and nothing but stockings, he thinks he looks _perfect_.

Steve rubs his thumb over his leaking hole, watching his motions in the mirror. His other hand traces the back band of the hosiery. Heavy lidded eyes peer back at him. Pupils blown wide and red staining his cheeks, he looks wanton and ready. His pink tongue darts out to moisten dry lips.

He imagines being laid out on the couch like this, under Bucky, those beautiful ice blue eyes staring down at him, running his big hands over Steve's stockinged legs. His cock jerks at the fantasy, and Steve wraps his hand around himself, squeezing tightly. His eyelids flutter closed. In his mind, Bucky's arousal is pressing against his own, Bucky's breath warm against his ear as he moans Steve's name. 

"_...Steve?_"

Lost in the delicious images playing out in his mind, it takes a moment for Steve to register Bucky's voice isn't inside his head, but coming from behind him. His eyes fly open, hand still gripping his erection, and spins on the spot, wobbling as silken feet slip against the trunk lid. 

Bucky is softly silhouetted by the golden afternoon light streaming in the open door, eyes wide, fixed on Steve.

"B-Bucky!" Panic floods Steve's body. He jerks, automatically moving to take a step backward -away from Bucky's shocked expression boring into him- but there's no room. He stumbles, slipping off his perch, scrambling to find purchase but failing. He falls to the floor, his hip catching the sharp edge of the case on the way down. Steve cries out in pain, and Bucky is on knees, on the floor in front of him in an instant.

"Jesus, Steve, are you okay?"

Steve scrambles backward until his back hits the solid mass of the couch. His heart beats in his chest so painfully he's sure he's going to break a rib. Bucky rocks back, sitting on his feet and holding out his hands, palms up, toward Steve in a gesture of placating submission. 

Steve winces in pain, and Bucky's eyes flicker down Steve's body, searching to assess the damage he has done to himself this time. Steve tilts his head down, his eyes following the path of Bucky's. He blanches. Reality breaks through the fog of pain in his mind as his eyes brush over the stockings and his arousal between. He cups his hands over himself and pushes to his feet.  
  
Steve had never met a situation when his choice of fight or flight hadn't ended with him throwing a punch and, more often than not, being on the receiving end of at least one in return. 

Until today. 

Pushing past Bucky, he flees for the first time in his life, seeking the secluded sanctuary of his room. Only Bucky's frantic "_Steve!_" rises above the blood pounding in his ears, but he ignores it, slamming the door shut, and crumples to the floor against it.

Steve isn't sure if it's moments or hours, but eventually, his pounding heart becomes a dull, slow thud in his chest, weighed down with dread. He stays sagging against the door until the cold seeping from the floor becomes too much. Shivering, he stands and pushes the stockings roughly down his legs. He scrunches them angrily, throwing them into the corner before clambering into his bed and pulling the covers up over his head.

His eyelids draw down, but Bucky's shocked expression bleeds through the blackness, burning into his mind and chasing away any chance of sleep.


	2. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's words start tumbling from him, and like a dam cracking and breaking, all the secrets he's been locking away in his heart spill from his lips in a torrent and he's powerless to stop them.

Steve emerges from his bedroom the next morning while darkness still clings to the world. His plan of sneaking out before Bucky wakes is immediately derailed when a tired voice breaks the silence.

"We need to talk, Steve."

Steve spins toward the direction of the voice as light flares next to the couch. The harsh bulb exaggerates the dark circles under Bucky's eyes, hitting his cheekbones and casting deep shadows beneath, giving him a drawn appearance, looking every bit as exhausted as Steve feels.

"You're awake," Steve offers dumbly.

Bucky nods to the seat beside him. "Come here."

Steve shifts his weight from foot to foot as he glances at the door, weighing the odds of making it before Bucky can reach him.

A ghost of a smile pulls at Bucky's lips as if he can read Steve's mind. "You won't make it."

Steve sighs, pads over to the couch, and sits -his back sliding down against the arm of the chair, putting as much distance between him and Bucky as he can- wincing at the pressure against his injured hip.  
  
"I found them," Steve blurts before Bucky can speak.

Bucky holds up a hand to stop him. "I don't care, Steve."

"I -- what?" Steve blinks at his best friend, confusion clouding his face and his voice.

"I don't care if you were foolin' around with... that." Bucky clears his throat. "All guys try silly stuff at some point. I don't care." He waves dismissively. "I just care that you thought you couldn't tell me, pal. That you shut me out."

"Silly stuff?"

Bucky's lips quirk upward briefly in a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Sure, I even sat on my hand once for a whole hour to make it numb. Was s'pposed ta make it feel like someone else."

Steve flushes at the mental image. "Did it work?"

Bucky shrugs sheepishly. "Nah, not really. Sensation comes back way before..." He trails off.

Steve chews thoughtfully on his lip for a long moment. "But what if it isn't playing around? What if it's not just _silly stuff_?"

Bucky's brows knit together. "What d'ya mean?"

Steve looks away, wilting under Bucky's searching gaze.

"It's not like you wanna be a bird," Bucky laughs.

Steve blanches. 

Bucky notices.

"I m-mean.." Bucky stammers, reaching up a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Is that what you want, Steve? You want to be a girl?" Bucky asks, not unkindly.

Steve shakes his head slowly, eyes downcast. "No. Not really. I want..." he trails off, uncertain to explain to Bucky what he doesn't entirely understand himself.

Bucky sits quietly, waiting.

"I just-- " Steve fidgets, his stomach churning wildly. _How can he admit this to Bucky? He's going to hate him. He's going to--_ Steve's heart thuds in his small chest painfully as his breathing becomes shallow.

"Steve, it's okay. Calm down."

Steve tucks his chin into his chest, squeezes his eyes closed, opens his mouth, and pushes the words out before he can think himself out of the confession. "I want to be _your girl._"

Steve still can't bring himself to look at Bucky, to see his reaction. So he clenches his jaw and waits to hear it instead. Waits to hear the snort of disgust, the harsh words of anger calling him a deviant, or worse, telling Steve to never speak to him again. Steve's throat constricts distressingly at the thought, fear freezing away the flames of shame, and making him shiver.

But still he waits.

Steve doesn't realize he's holding his breath until his lungs are burning and tears prick at his eyes. Bucky hasn't said -or done- anything. Expelling the air from his lungs in a rush before filling them again, Steve peeks up at Bucky through barely-parted lashes.

Bucky is sitting unmoving, jaw clenched, staring at Steve. The only indication of him having heard Steve's admission is the red burning along sharp cheekbones, and the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallows thickly. Once. Twice...

"Buck?"

Icy fingers of dread lock Steve in place, and he starts to babble, panic constricting his chest and pushing words out, desperately trying to make Bucky understand.

"I like them, the stockings, I mean. They make me feel... I don't know Bucky, they're pretty, and sometimes I want to feel pretty..." -five agonizing thuds hammer against his rib cage before he can give voice to his deepest desire - "..._for you_."

Steve's words start tumbling from him, and like a dam cracking and breaking, all the secrets he's been locking away in his heart spill from his lips in a torrent, and he's powerless to stop them.

"It's just, I know I'm not a dame, Buck, _I know_, and I know you like dames, but I could make you feel good like they do... with my mouth, and... and..." Steve falters as Bucky's eyes go wide at his confession. "I know it wouldn't be the same, not really, but you could be with me like you are with them, Buck, you could--" Steve lets out a shaky breath "--be inside me."

Bucky stands abruptly, staring down at Steve, those steel-blue eyes clouding over like a storm is brewing inside him. He opens his mouth and snaps it shut again, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. A muscle twitches in his strong jaw.

Steve wrings his hands in his lap. His mind races, looking at the fists, and he braces himself for the blow. But it never comes. Bucky spins on his heel, and in five long, purposeful strides, he's gone. The door slams loudly behind him.  
  
Steve can't move, can't breathe. The hollow emptiness in his stomach grows slowly, spreading over his skin, consuming him before filling up the small apartment.

His body is trembling, and he feels so cold, as if all the sunshine and warmth of the world had disappeared with Bucky. Steve pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his trembling arms around them, wondering if he'll ever feel that warmth again.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, look - no porn! /puffs out chest proudly/
> 
> ...though that probably won't hold true for chapter three.


	3. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't be with Steve. Not like that. ...Not that he hadn't thought about it. 
> 
> Such things are forbidden. Dangerous. So he distracts himself with dames, a lot of dames, trying to fill the Steve-shaped hole inside him. And it works, for the most part. No good gettin' all riled up over something he can never have; false hope bleeds you more than no hope at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my Bucky curses like a sailor apparently. Consider yourself warned.

  
Bucky walks blindly, automatically, his mind churning faster than his legs, conversation replaying on loop in his head.

_Need to calm down, need to calm down, need to --_

The image of Steve rises in his mind, peeking up at him from beneath thick lashes, talking about making him feel good with his mouth and--

Bucky makes it down the many stairs and around the corner of the building before he's biting into his fist, muffling the cry as his cock jerks untouched in his shorts, wetting the fabric with his release.

His head drops low as his fingers reach out to steady himself against the wall, biting into the brick beneath them, anchoring him. Sucking in shuddering breaths, he looks around frantically to check if anyone had seen his embarrassing loss of control.

_Shit._

Pushing off the bricks and turning before falling back, he lets the hard thump of his back landing against the wall force the air from his lungs harshly. He slides down the rough surface, allowing his shirt to catch and clutch at the texture of the bricks, feeling a grim satisfaction at the thought of it tearing, _just like his mind_.

He shouldn't have walked out on Steve. He wasn't planning to, but then, he hadn't been expecting Steve's confession, either. That wasn't the kinda thing you blurt out to your best friend, never mind another fella. Those were the things you locked up tight in secret places inside you and never spoke about.

  
Bucky's cheeks run hot when it plays again in his mind. _Those words. From that mouth._ He had wanted to push Steve down on the couch and kiss the fear off his face, grind against him until they were both hot and panting. Swallow down his moans, and feel Steve's small body shuddering under his own.

The desire had hit him so hard it had jolted him to his feet before he'd even known he was moving. White noise had roared through his ears and in front of his eyes, and he'd needed air, needed space, needed to think.

_... Bullshit._

He snorts derisively._ He had needed to run away._ He bristles slightly at the thought of Steve being braver than he is, to not only admit those things to himself, but out loud.

Drawing his knees up, he rests his arms atop them and drops his head down between.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._  
  
Bucky loves Steve. Too much, he thinks. Sometimes he feels like his whole world is wrapped up in a little blond package filled with too much moxie and not enough self-preservation - a dangerous combination to give possession of your heart. Without Steve he feels incomplete, like part of him is missing. But, he can't be with Steve. Not like _that_. 

...Not that he hadn't thought about it. Steve is, well, pretty. Petite waist, puffy lower lip, lashes any dame would covet framing the most gorgeous eyes he's ever seen. But more than that, under the pretty package, he's Steve. He rubs the back of his hand over his eyes in frustration.

Such things are forbidden. Dangerous. So he distracts himself with dames, a lot of dames, trying to fill the Steve-shaped hole inside him. And it works, for the most part. Especially when he can coax Steve out on double dates. Then, for just a fleeting moment, in some small secret place inside him, he can imagine that they are out, _together_. But that's as far as it goes. That's as far as it can ever go. No good gettin' all riled up over something he can never have.

But, he had never dreamed Steve felt the same way.

Time stands still as he turns the possibilities over and over in his mind, trying desperately to find a way to make the puzzle pieces fit: what he wants, what he could have, square peg, round hole. He comes up wanting. 

The gossamer strings of hope that are tugging in his chest snap, and the crushing weight of reality presses down on him so hard his lungs constrict in his chest, stopping his breath. 

Even if they defied everyone and everything and were together, like _that_, it was bound to end disastrously. They'd be found out or fall out, and he would lose Steve and fall apart. He should have never even let the thought take root in his mind. And neither should Steve. No good comes from dreaming of things that can never be, false hope bleeds you more than no hope at all.  
  
He shivers and blinks. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed darkness eating up the world around him. The last rays of light have long since disappeared, and all at once, he feels the night closing in on him as cold and heavy as the defeat filling his belly. He pushes to his feet slowly, only now aware of the chill set deep into his bones.

Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, shoulders hunching forward against the wind, he starts trudging back up the steps to the apartment.

He'll talk with Steve, make him understand that it's for the best they forget all this... _business_, pretend this never happened: let the dust settle and shove a rug over it, and go back to just being Steve and Bucky, best friends. Because having Steve as a friend is infinitely better than not having Steve at all. Eventually, the pain of wanting what he can't have will fade, harden into scar tissue, and he'll learn to be thankful for it because it will mean he still has Steve.

Even if he doesn't really.

  
. . .

  
  
He twists the rough wool between his fingers, and glances -not for the first time this minute- at the clock. Each resounding _tick tick tick_ is a stabbing pain to his heart, and he's sure his chest is ripping open with each passing second, fear and dread bleeding out into his body, filling him with it until there's no space left for anything else.

Where is he? Bucky paces, wringing the useless fabric of Steve's coat between his hands, muttering to himself. Doubt floods his mind. Should he stay here and wait, hoping Steve comes back? Should he go out and look for him? Where would he start? Where would Steve go? How long has he been gone? Why didn't he take his coat?_ In the middle of fucking winter._

Bucky is so stupid. His fears, his thoughts, and worries about other people and what's right and what's wrong. None of it matters. Steve matters. _Only Steve_...

He shouldn't have walked out. He had driven Steve away. _Of course_ Steve had left. Bucky had abandoned him when he was being so open and vulnerable and loving. He should have just stayed and matched Steve's confession. Been honest, been brave. Like Steve. And then Steve wouldn't be laying dead in a ditch, frost clinging to his too-long lashes, turning his warm body cold, all alone in the dark. Bucky's tenuously held composure splinters at the image, and he sucks in a choking sob, rubbing the coat over his face, breathing in the scent of Steve.  
  
"B-b-Buck? Y-you're h-h-home?"

Bucky spins, lifting his head from the coat, wild eyes locking on the slight figure trembling in the doorway. Relief tears through him so intensely it almost knocks him off his feet, making his face go slack as he closes the distance between them and wraps his arms Steve, wincing as icy skin presses against his own.

"Jesus Christ, Steve!"

"I'm-m-m f-f-fine B-Buck." Steve's protest is undermined by his rapidly chattering teeth.

Scowling his disbelief, Bucky bends, planting his shoulder under Steve's sternum and hoists Steve into the air. Ignoring the squawk of protest and the flailing fists slapping ineffectively at his back, Bucky places his arm under Steve's ass, lifting to adjust the weight across his shoulder and marches into Steve's bedroom. 

Bucky dumps Steve unceremoniously on the bed, taking some small measure of satisfaction when he bounces up and down softly, anger painted across his pretty face.

"Strip."

Bucky wastes no time in pulling off his layers, throwing them behind him unconcernedly. Steve just stares up at him blankly, wrapping his arms around himself, body wracked with cold.

"If you're not naked by the time I am, so help me, Rogers, I am going to strip you myself."

"B-B-Buck? I d-d-don't..." Steve trails off as Bucky pushes down his shorts, now completely naked. Wide eyes lock on to the newly displayed flesh before sliding away.

"You're frozen solid, Steve. You know the quickest way to warm a body is skin on skin contact." Bucky bites his lip, feeling a tinge of guilt. Strictly speaking, he could have left his shorts on, but in for a penny, in for a...

He clears his throat and reaches out to grab Steve's shirt hem, and Steve pushes his hands away as he drops his gaze to his lap.

"I c-c-can do it, m'self". Steve's voice is quiet.  
  
Bucky isn't sure if the red burning across his cheeks is from the cold or something else, but it is a good look, he decides. He watches as Steve -still not looking at him - fumbles with his clothes. Tugging and sliding them off, he drops them neatly beside the bed before curling his knees up to his chest.

Bucky scrambles over Steve, claiming space in the bed before wrapping one arm around him, pulling the cold back flush against his warm chest. "Jesus, fuck!" Goosebumps bloom across his body. "Steve, you're fucking freezing!"

Bucky grits his teeth, restraining himself from pulling away from the block of ice pressing against his body. He tucks himself behind Steve's ass, lifting one leg over Steve's hip, tangling their legs together before reaching back and pulling Steve's blanket over them wholly, cocooning them.  
  
Wrapping his arms around Steve, pulling them tighter together, his warm hands rub at the cold skin. His earlier panic draining away with each beat from Steve's chest echoing into his own.

"You scared me." Bucky wants to scream at Steve, to rant, and rave and shake some sense into him, but feeling the small trembling body against his own, he is keenly aware of just how differently tonight could have gone, how much worse. "Where did you go?"

"To f-f-find y-you." He pauses, and Bucky can feel Steve's body tense despite the tremors still pulsing through him. "W-what I s-said, Buck, it was just..." Bucky feels him shrug. "...you're right, it was just s-silly stuff. Didn't mean to m-make you upset. Just..." Steve draws a shaky breath. "Just f-foolin' around."

Bucky stills. This is what he had wanted, isn't it? To pretend it hadn't happened, to go back. But that was before. Before he thought he'd chased Steve away, thought he'd lost him, forever. Before he realized that he would gladly take whatever time he was given with Steve, in every way he could, no matter how long it lasted or how it ended. He wasn't going to deny himself -or Steve- the only guarantee of happiness they had:_ together_.

"But you weren't, were you?"

Steve doesn't answer. The silence stretches between them, and Bucky tries again.

"You mean it, though, don't you, Steve? About being with me?"

Steve is still trembling against him, but his teeth aren't chattering so loudly, and Bucky can feel their warm breaths filling their makeshift cocoon and falling to settle on chilled skin. He trails a warm hand down Steve's stomach, coming to curl around Steve's cock loosely, just holding him.

Steve's hips tilt forward, and he gasps, "B-Buck?"

His grip tightens around the modest cock in his hands, feeling it firm under his fingers. He lowers his head, pressing his lips against Steve's ear, "Do you want to be with me the same way I want to be with you?"

Steve's head falls back on Bucky's shoulder, and he moans, his hands reaching down to clutch at the larger ones holding him. He shakes his head. "Please, Buck, don't tease me."

Bucky presses himself against Steve's ass, letting him feel the hard line of his cock. "I'm not teasin' ya, Stevie, but I need to know you want me, too."

There's a pause, and then Steve is nodding against him, soft hair rubbing against his collarbone. "Yes, Bucky."

Bucky smiles and presses a kiss behind Steve's ear. "Good. Then I think we best warm ya up, sweetheart."  
  
Steve's cock fits almost wholly in Bucky's hand like it was made for him. He twists his wrist and flicks his thumb over the head as it drools precome all over his fingers. Frenzied hips are thrusting against him as Steve fucks into his fist, the movements swathing his cock in sweet friction.

"Buck, oh, Bucky, please... don't stop, please." The begging words tumbling from Steve's lips go straight to Bucky's cock, and he moans as he pushes his hips in closer, tighter, rubbing himself between Steve's cheeks, the twin mounds of flesh pressing in on him so sweetly. 

"Not gonna stop Stevie, gonna make you come, baby." Bucky angles his arm trapped under Steve's body down, reaching to cup Steve's balls, rubbing them between gentle fingers as he continues to work the leaking cock with his other hand.

"Oh. Buck!" Steve cries out as his body spasms, head thrashing against Bucky as his pleasure hits its peak. Bucky releases the sac and digs his fingers into a small hip, grinding his aching cock against the cleft of Steve's ass, still jerking with aftershocks against him. Steve's hand reaches back, clutching at his hip, and Bucky's coming, thick and hot over Steve's ass. His mess coats them both as he thrusts with abandon, legs trembling, hips stuttering as wave after wave of vibrant pleasure breaks inside him. When the tension in his body shatters, he collapses onto his back, rolling away from Steve, gasping for air.  
  
He lays there panting, wondering how he hasn't come apart at the seams. He's never experienced anything like he's just felt with Steve. Pleasure is still pulsing through his body, zingy little aftershocks traveling along his nerves like live-wires on train tracks. Turning his head, he peers through the darkness of their blanket bubble, trying but failing to make out Steve's features. "You okay?"

"Mmm, perfect."

He feels Steve shift, registering a soft cheek pressing against his ribs, and a now-warm hand sliding across his belly as Steve tucks himself into Bucky's body, yawning.

"We should probably clean you up..." Bucky offers halfheartedly, feeling a secret thrill at the thought of Steve covered in the evidence of their shared lust.

Steve's arm tightens around him, objecting to the suggestion and mumbles sleepily, "Nuh uh, later, Buck. M'comfy."

Bucky smiles into the darkness, his chest swelling with warmth, and the absolute sense of _right_ he feels with Steve curled against him. _Later_ is a fine time for everything he decides. Right now, nothing exists but the two of them, together. Running his fingers through the soft strands of Steve's hair, his eyelids drift closed, letting the steady rise and fall of Steve's chest lull him to sleep.


	4. Exploration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky rubs his arms soothingly. "I love you, Steve, all of you, and I want all of you. If this makes you happy then it makes me happy, and well," Bucky lifts his hand to cup Steve's face, rubbing his thumb tenderly over Steve's cheek, "I can't have my best girl's stockings falling down, can I?"
> 
> A shiver burns through Steve's body, leaving him trembling, a whisper of Bucky's name ghosting over his lips like a prayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost entirely smut. Well, smut and fluff. Feel free to skip if that's not your thing, or roll around and revel in it if it is.
> 
> Please heed the updated tags.

Steve taps the end of his pencil against the sketchpad lying forgotten on his leg. The steady _thunk, thunk, thunk_ echoes the _tick tick tick_ of the clock as he shifts restlessly on the couch, eyes fixed on the door, waiting.

Bucky’s late. _Again._

It’s been a week since their first night together, and every day since, Bucky has been slow home. Steve doesn’t _think_ it has anything to do with them. When Bucky does get home, they collapse onto the couch or stumble to bed until hungry kisses and frantic fingers leave them both breathless and sated, only dragging themselves out of their post-pleasure stupor when Bucky’s stomach starts grumbling too loudly.

That’s _all_ they do, though. He tries to ignore the tendrils of guilt coiling in his belly, the whispers of doubt in his mind. Steve’s happier than he’s ever been, being with Bucky like this. _But..._ whenever he tries to take it further, to put his mouth on Bucky, he’s pulled back up, Bucky’s ravenous lips claiming his, keeping him in place until talented fingers squeeze and pull his pleasure from him.

His skin prickles at the memories, feeling himself starting to swell. Squeezing his legs together, he lets the pencil fall from his fingers as he balls his fists, pushing them hard against the chair and away from temptation. _Bucky will be home soon_.

As if conjured by thought alone, the door swings open, and Bucky steps through in a draught of cold air before pushing the door closed behind him, shutting out the rest of the world.

He shivers as Bucky’s eyes devour him, taking in Steve’s parted lips, tracing the pink flush down his neck before dropping lower, to the small bulge pressing up in his lap. A thrill runs through Steve, watching Bucky’s eyes darkening in response.

Steve springs to his feet and all but runs to Bucky. Wrapping his arms around him, Steve presses desperate kisses to Bucky’s neck, tangling his hands in locks of dark hair, tugging Bucky’s head down to claim his mouth. Bucky leans into the embrace, strong hands reaching down to cup at Steve’s ass, pulling their hips together and grinding roughly. Steve’s tongue searches Bucky’s mouth, licking up the taste of him, whimpering softly as Bucky growls and breaks the kiss, pushing his shoulders gently, putting some distance between them, sucking in harsh breaths.

“Buck,” Steve whines, his fingers clutching at Bucky’s waist futilely.

Bucky doesn’t answer, just steers him toward the couch and pushes him down onto it, gently. Steve flops down and lays as he lands, legs spread in invitation, looking up expectantly.

Bucky clears his throat and drags his eyes away. “Wait there.”

The command makes Steve huff, his eyes tracking Bucky’s movements as he turns and walks toward their now shared room. Steve’s brows furrow at the retreating footsteps. _This isn’t how things usually go._ Pulling himself to a sitting position, he grabs the forgotten pencil digging into his back and places it on the small table beside him.

“Buck?” He hates the note of uncertainty in his voice.

After a moment with no answer, Bucky reappears, looking decidedly more composed. Steve’s lips purse slightly. There’s something different about the set of his shoulders, the steely determination showing in the clench of his jaw. And, Steve’s eyes narrow, something unfamiliar simmers in those beautiful eyes.

_Oh, no._

Bucky shifts uneasily on his feet. “Steve, I --” He breaks off at the look on Steve’s face.

Steve’s heart drops to his stomach and flounders, sending waves of panic flooding into his throat. Fear turns his pulse thready.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice is soft as he comes to kneel at Steve’s feet. “It’s okay. Nothing’s wrong.” Bucky runs his hands up and down Steve’s thighs reassuringly.

Steve can feel the hand of panic around his neck loosening. _Slightly._ “You don’t want to... break u---uh, stop?” He cringes. He knows he sounds pathetic and clingy, but now he has all of Bucky, the thought of losing him makes his heart constrict painfully.

Bucky’s head tilts curiously before shaking slowly. “Why would you think that?”

Steve’s shoulders lift slightly and fall back down, the motion halting, uncertain. “You’ve been coming home late, I thought maybe...” he trails off, not wanting to give voice to those nagging thoughts of doubt telling him he isn’t enough.

Understanding lights Bucky’s eyes, and he smiles ruefully. “I’ve been working late,” he reaches down and pulls two small packages from his pocket, “so I could get you these.”

Steve’s eyes go wide looking down at the small parcels, his body sagging slightly with relief, embarrassment burning his ears. “Aw, Buck, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Bucky’s voice is tender as he places the wide, flat package into Steve’s lap. “Open this one first.”

Steve turns the gift over in his fingers. It is wrapped in newspaper and bound with string, and he can tell Bucky has wrapped it himself. His heart swells. Plucking the string off carefully, he peels back the paper, and pauses, fingers poised above the contents, confused.

“Do you like them?”

“Um. Yeah, sure, Buck. Thanks.” Steve turns the sock suspenders over in his hands, plastering a smile on his lips in an effort to mask his bewilderment, not wanting to seem ungrateful.

“You don’t like them,” Bucky’s voice dances with mirth.

Steve’s brows dart up, alarm filling his eyes. “Oh, no, Buck, they’re great, I uh, don’t have black ones. Though,” he holds one up, letting it dangle into view, “d’you think maybe we could exchange them for a smaller size? They seem a bit big.”

Bucky’s grins. “That’s because they’re not for your socks.” He reaches into his pocket with his free hand and pulls out a mass of dark silk, letting it sway between his fingers. “They’re for these.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at the sight of the discarded stockings, his mouth falling open in a small _o._

Bucky shrugs sheepishly. “I couldn’t afford real stocking garters, but these should work a treat until I can. I figure they’re just about the right size to go around your thighs.”

“I---” Steve’s voice cracks. “Buck?”

Bucky takes the garters from Steve’s fingers, placing them, along with the second gift, on the floor next to him. Pitching forward, he reaches up for the waistband of Steve’s pants. “You should try them on, though, just to be sure. I had to guess for sizing.” Bucky tugs at his pants, “Lift your hips, Steve. These clothes ain’t gonna remove themselves.”

Steve tenses. He’d thought Bucky had forgotten the stockings, or maybe disliked the idea, having not mentioned it since walking in on Steve wearing them. “Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to. Just being with you is enough, Buck, _it is_.”

Bucky rubs his arms soothingly. “I love you, Steve, all of you, and I want all of you. If this makes you happy, then it makes me happy, and well,” Bucky lifts his hand to cup Steve’s face, rubbing his thumb tenderly over Steve’s cheek. “I can’t have my best girl’s stockings falling down, can I?”

A shiver burns through Steve’s body, leaving him trembling, a whisper of Bucky’s name ghosting over his lips like a prayer.

Bucky makes quick work of Steve’s clothes, shucking off each piece, tossing them haphazardly behind him until only Steve’s briefs remain. Bucky runs his thumb over the damp patch, and Steve’s hips jerk up into his touch. A low chuckle rumbles in Bucky’s throat as he hooks the top band and tugs them down.

Steve groans as determined hands grip his hips and pull him forward until he’s perched on the edge of his seat, the fabric biting at his now bare ass. Bucky retrieves the dark silk and lifts Steve’s leg, pressing it over his toes, pulling it up over his foot, letting it bunch loosely around his ankle.

Steve’s skin pebbles as Bucky slides the dusky fabric up his leg in tantalizingly slow movements. Steve’s breath becomes shallow, pushing from his chest in small pants as Bucky smoothes the cool silk down with warm hands, and his breath catches completely when Bucky wraps the garter around his thigh, sliding it home with a soft snap.

Bucky presses soft kisses to the strip of pale flesh between the garter and dark band of the stockings before securing them together. Steve sighs at the silky strands of hair tickling his thigh before Bucky lifts his head and moves to repeat his attentions on the other leg.

Bucky snags Steve’s hands as he straightens, pulling them both to their feet. Steve lets himself be led toward the mirror but falters mid-step. Bucky moves behind him, pressing him forward. The mirror is hanging much lower than before. Bucky must have re-positioned it in anticipation of this moment, for reflected at him from the glass is his small body, half-hiding Bucky from view, big hands caressing small dark-clad legs.

His eyes lock on to the mirror, watching Bucky sink to his knees behind him, trailing tender kisses over the purple-yellow mottled flesh he knows still lingers on his hip. Reaching back, he rakes his fingers through the dark hair, and when he feels Bucky’s tongue dragging over the injured skin, his fingers tighten, and he tugs upward urgently.

Bucky allows himself to be pulled up, and Steve looks up at him with dark eyes. “Buck, please...”

“So impatient, Stevie.” Bucky rubs a thumb over a pink nipple, and Steve’s body quivers at the touch. “I need to take care of my best gal properly. You can be patient for me, can’t you, doll?”

Steve’s body jerks at the words, and he locks his knees to stop them from giving out as Bucky bends his head and claims the small nub between his lips, suckling it gently. Steve marvels at the warm, wet heat of Bucky’s mouth, trembling as his tongue laves over the sensitive peak. He digs his nails into Bucky’s scalp, yanking him closer, whining pitifully when soft lips release him.

Bucky rubs a finger over the spit-slicked pebble. “Such pretty little breasts, Stevie.”

“Buck.” Steve jolts and turns his burning face away. “Th-they’re not...”

“What’s the matter, baby? Look at them.” Tender fingers squeeze the thin layer of muscle under his skin, and Steve lowers his head to see the slight rise pinched between Bucky’s fingers. “You like me sucking on your sweet little tits, don’t you, baby?” 

Steve flush deepens, spreading down to his chest, but nods jerkily. Bucky lowers his head again to claim the other nipple, raking his teeth over it carefully, making Steve gasp. Bucky’s insistent tongue works him over until his legs are shaking, and he is sure he’s going to collapse.

He tugs at Bucky’s hair. “Buck... need you, please. Need you now.”

Bucky kisses his way up Steve’s chest, dragging his tongue up the column of his throat, and plants a light kiss on the tip of Steve’s nose. His eyes dance mischievously. “I almost forgot.”

Turning, he walks stiffly toward the couch and bends to recover the second gift from the floor. Steve watches as he reaches into his pants to adjust himself, feeling a thrill of pride at being the source of Bucky’s arousal.

Bucky presses the small parcel into Steve’s hands. His brows quirk with a hopeful question _-later, please?-_ but Bucky shakes his head. “You’re gonna wanna open that one.”

Steve huffs, impatient fingers push off the string and paper, letting them fall to the floor. His mouth falls open as he turns the small gold tube over in his hands.

“Oh. _Oh, Buck_.” The words carry on a soft exhale of breath.

Bucky fetches the mirror from the wall, coming to stand before Steve before resting it against his chest and angling it so Steve can peer into it easily. After a careful twist, trembling fingers are pressing the soft stick to his lips, painting them with color. His efforts are clumsy, imperfect, but the red coating his lips, bold and daring, makes him look...

“Beautiful,” Bucky’s breathes, low and earnest.

He can’t stop the tears that well in his eyes. He tries to blink them away but sends them spilling over instead, wet trails shining on his cheeks. Bucky hurriedly deposits the mirror on the floor, leaning it against the wall carefully before he’s back in front of Steve, thumbs chasing the moisture away. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.” Bucky brushes his lips over Steve’s.

His chin trembles, his eyes shining with more than tears. “It’s so pretty.”

Bucky smiles, leans in and sucks Steve’s lower lip into his mouth, biting on it gently. “It’s gonna look even prettier smeared around my cock.”

Steve’s legs finally buckle at Bucky’s comment, at his _promise_. Strong hands catch him before he tumbles to the floor, lifting him as easy as anything, carrying him back to the empty chair.

Tender moments crest into frenzied desire, and two sets of hands fumble with Bucky’s clothes -twisting, tugging, pulling them off- tossing them carelessly to the floor. Steve pushes Bucky back against the couch, kneeling on the floor, before pushing up, edging Bucky’s knees apart. _He’s waited so long._

Bucky’s hand grips a fistful of his hair carefully, not enough to cause pain, but firm enough to keep him aloft, held just out of reach of his desire. “Well, aren’t you eager?”

Steve whines. “Please, Buck, I wanna taste you.”

“Yeah, Stevie? You wanna suck me? Make me feel good with your mouth, baby?”

Steve’s head moves in small jarring motions, hindered by Bucky’s hold, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “_Please._”

Bucky loosens his fist and presses gently against the top of Steve’s head, guiding his eager mouth down onto his cock.

At Bucky’s urging, he opens his mouth wide, feeling his lips stretching to accommodate Bucky’s girth. Bucky is big -_so much bigger than he is_\- and panic flares at the base of his skull as his mouth is filled so completely. Drawing in a deep breath through his nose, his nostrils flare at the musky scent of Bucky, and it calms him, the panic ebbing away.

He can’t take all of Bucky, not even close, so he sucks hungrily at the head engulfed in his mouth, cheeks hollowing with his efforts. Bucky’s hands are fisting Steve’s hair now, his breaths coming in short, harsh pants, a string of praise tumbling from his lips and burning a trail across Steve’s skin: _Yes, right there, Stevie, just like that, doll, feels so good in your pretty mouth._

Steve’s nose wrinkles at the foreign taste as Bucky leaks in his mouth -strange, salty and bitter, but all Bucky- and his tongue tracks the source, licking into the drooling slit.

“_Fuck!_” Bucky’s hips jerk up, pushing his cock forward, and Steve gags at the intrusion pressing at the back of his throat, choking him. Bucky’s fingers tug at Steve’s hair, and he feels himself being pulled forcibly up, the hard length dragging out of his mouth. “Shit, Steve, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

Steve gasps, coughs wracking his body, eyes watering as he turns them on Bucky, nodding. “Yeah, s’okay, Buck,” he rasps.

Bucky’s eyes search his intently, lips pressed together tightly. “You sure?”

Steve’s smile is honest and reassuring, and he watches as the tension in Bucky’s shoulders falls away slowly. Steve’s eyes drop to Bucky’s cock and the bright red ring of his lipstick around it. He moans softly, the sight making his throat tighten for entirely different reasons. Hot shards of _want_ slice through him, and he leans down to reclaim his prize, whining pitifully when Bucky’s hands come to cup his chin firmly, holding him back.

“Steve, if you put your mouth on me again right now, I’m going to come all over your tongue.”

Steve licks his lips. “That sounds pretty good to me, Buck.”

Bucky laughs, the husky tone curling around him deliciously. “Don’t be greedy, Stevie. It’s my turn to have a taste of you.”

Releasing his chin and hooking his hands under Steve’s armpits, Bucky straightens, lifting him off the ground easily, crushing their chests together, wrapping strong arms around his back. Steve locks his legs around Bucky’s waist, rubbing his aching cock against Bucky’s belly, head lolling onto a broad shoulder and mewling softly into his neck as Bucky carries him to their room.

The mattress dips slightly under Steve’s ass as Bucky places him on the edge of the bed. Firm but gentle hands push him to lay flat, lifting his legs, bending his knees and placing his feet flat before Bucky sinks to his knees. Anticipation sparks across Steve’s skin. His eyelids flutter closed, waiting to feel Bucky’s mouth take in his aching cock.

When he feels hands pressing at the flesh of his ass, and a warm wet tongue brushes over his hole, Steve wails, back arching up, forcing his ass harder against Bucky’s mouth. Bucky hums against him, licking lazy stripes across him, and Steve swears he can feel Bucky’s lips pulling up into a smirk against him.

Steve groans, hips stuttering. “Buck? ...What?”

Bucky lifts his face from Steve, spitting onto two fingers and pressing them down against him in his tongue’s stead. Steve was right about the smirk. “Told ya, Stevie, I wanna taste your sweet little pussy.”

Steve bucks on the bed, shaking his head, embarrassment and desire warring to see which can burn the brightest across his skin. “No, Buck, I don’t... _it’s not_...”

Slick fingers rub at him relentlessly. “Don’t be shy, sugar, you want me to eat your pretty pussy, don’t you? Make you feel good, baby?” Bucky presses a sucking kiss at the clenched ring, the obscene noise filling the small room, echoing in his ears.

Steve shoves his fist in his mouth, trying to trap the scream that is building in his throat.

“Tell me you want it, sweetheart.” Bucky works him open with his tongue, the sloppy sucking noises make his cock leak desperately. Steve feels the moment when the strong muscle slides inside him, feels Bucky licking at his insides, and the scream breaks loose, hands stretching to fist Bucky’s hair roughly, desperately tugging him closer, needing more.

“Please, Bucky, oh, oh _please_... “

Steve isn’t sure what he’s begging for until he feels himself burning, stretching as a finger presses inside him alongside the wet heat of Bucky’s tongue. He’s thrashing helplessly on the bed, but Bucky’s unwavering ministrations continue. 

Buck lifts his face and looks up at him. “Feel good, baby?” He runs two fingers through the slick on Steve’s belly, and Steve feels them trailing down over his taint, circling his hole before pressing deep inside him. He writhes as the fingers curl and stretch inside him, Bucky’s name echoing on his lips like it’s the only word his blissed-out brain can find.

His world blurs and shrinks until all that exists is the scorching heat of Bucky’s mouth on him and thick fingers –one, two, then three- stretching his aching hole and rubbing at his soft insides. He’s shivering feverishly, and crying, shaking, pleading, entirely consumed by the ecstasy tearing through his veins.

With one last obscene lick, Bucky pulls away. Steve lifts forward, eyes falling on Bucky’s lips, red and swollen from his filthy kisses. Steve’s desperate fingers stretch out to him. “_Please_.”

Bucky pushes to his feet and blows out a shaky breath. “Just one more second.”

Steve cries out in frustration, fists thumping against the bed as Bucky disappears from view. His body is thrumming, screaming for release. Bucky’s low laugh reaches Steve before he reappears with a small container in hand. “So impatient, Stevie. We’re really gonna have to work on that.”

Steve sucks in a shuddering breath, trapping it in his lungs, letting it burn as he watches Bucky rub the petroleum jelly over his large cock, hand traveling in slow, easy strokes.

Bucky climbs on to the bed next to him, leaning up against the wall at the head of the bed, and spreads his legs. “C’ mere doll, you ready to feel me inside you?”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. Steve scrambles to Bucky, the promise of his fantasy finally becoming a reality making him lightheaded, his movements clumsy. Breathless, he steadies himself, gripping onto Bucky’s shoulders and raises on his knees, shivering as his stockinged legs brush against Bucky’s bare thighs. Strong hands come to grip his waist, holding him up, the thick hard line of Bucky’s cock pressing against his cheeks. 

“Gonna need you to spread yourself, baby. That’s it, reach down and pull those pretty cheeks apart for me.”

Steve flushes but complies, tensing as Bucky presses against him. 

“It’s okay, just relax. Take a deep breath for me, Stevie. That’s it, now exhale slowly.”

Steve focuses on the soothing voice. _He can do this, he can --_ He cries out as the fat head of Bucky’s cock forces inside him, pushing the air from his lungs in a sharp “_ahh_.”

Bucky stills, teeth gritted, breathing harshly through his nose. “Fuck, Steve, oh fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

Steve’s fingers cover Bucky’s larger ones at his waist, nails digging into the flesh. “Ahh, oh, Buck, you’re too big...”

“Gotta relax, honey, your body wants to stretch for me. Yeah, deep breaths, that’s it.”

Steve’s eyes roll back, and his head follows suit, his lips pulling apart to expose clenched teeth, face pinching as pain and pleasure vie for control on his body. “_Buuuuck..._”

Steve isn’t sure how much time passes as Bucky slides, agonizingly slowly, inch by inch, inside him, stopping to let him adjust, cooing encouraging praise softly -_yes, that’s it, doing so well baby, gonna feel so good, babydoll_\- but finally, his ass is seated flush against Bucky’s body.

The burning pain subsides slowly, washed away by a heavy aching fullness. Steve rubs a hand over his belly, swearing he can feel Bucky pressing out from inside him. He moans lewdly, rocking his hips gently, reeling at the sensation. “Oh, Buck, oh, oh..”

Bucky’s face scrunches tightly, his hands digging into the flesh of Steve’s waist, stilling him. “Wait, wait, stop, Steve! Fuck. I don’t wanna come yet, baby, just give me a minute.”

Steve bites his lip painfully, tempering his overwhelming desire to move, wanting so badly to please Bucky. They remain motionless, joined together, panting breaths and mirrored heartbeats the only sounds filling their ears until Steve’s body is almost vibrating with the effort to stay still. His resolve is wavering as his body’s instincts scream at him to rock forward, to seek the pleasure that has been staved off for too long already. His strength is cresting breaking point when Bucky’s voice slices through his internal battle. It’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard. “Okay, Stevie, you can move now.”

Leaning forward, he plants his hands on Bucky’s chest, fingers splayed wide as rocks forward, feeling Bucky shift inside him. “Oh, Buck.”

“Yeah, ride my cock, sweetheart, just like that,” he groans. “Fuck, your pussy is so tight, baby.”

A fresh wave of heat blazes through him at the words. “Buck...” Steve lifts up, feeling the slick slide of Bucky’s cock pull out of him before he’s rocking back down, his ass clutching at the thick flesh hungrily, protesting the gaping emptiness now it’s accustomed to being filled so completely. The sound of flesh meeting flesh makes him shiver deliciously. He rocks back and forth on Bucky, frantically.

“Ahh! You’re gonna make me come in your sweet little cunt, baby. You want that Stevie?”

Steve cries out, the words burning into his skin, branding him with pleasure. 

“Tell me, baby, tell me what you need.” Bucky’s hand engulfs Steve’s leaking cock, rubbing a thumb over the tip, and Steve’s crying desperately at the pleasure of_ Bucky._

Steve keens as Bucky rubs against the tight bundle of nerves inside him. “Need you, Buck, n-need you...”

Bucky’s hands dig in tighter to his hips, and Steve winces at the sting of pain as the firm fingers press against his bruise, but the pleasure of Bucky lifting him, then drawing him back down, fucking him onto his hard cock is worth it.

“Tell me, Stevie,” Bucky is panting roughly, growling the words out. “Tell me you want me to fill your tight little pussy.”

“Want you to fill my.. my.. “Steve covers his red face with his hands, letting Bucky take his weight, fucking his body up and down over the hard shaft.

“It’s alright baby, let me hear you say it.” Bucky sounds as desperate as Steve feels.

A choking sob breaks from his chest, tears running down his cheeks, “Please, fill my pussy, Buck, please, I want you to come in my pussy.”

Bucky moans, “Yeah, Stevie, that’s my good girl.”

Steve jolts at the praise and breaks apart, crying Bucky’s name as his legs seize, hips jerk, his cock spitting all over Bucky’s fingers, shattering from the inside out. He collapses against Bucky’s chest, panting as his pleasure spirals through him, his ass spasming, clenching tight around Bucky. He hears Bucky’s answering shout –“_Oh fuck, Steve!_”– and feels the hard fingers bruising deeper into his hips, pulling him down, locking him in place, as Bucky grinds savagely against him, hot, wet pulses of come filling his belly.

  
They lay together, trembling, covered in sweat and come, floating in shared bliss, their tangle of limbs anchoring them together until heartbeats slow and shallow breaths deepen.  
  
“Buck, that was... “He isn’t quite sure the word he’s looking for actually exists.

“Yeah, it was.”

His fingers trail over Bucky’s chest lazily, limbs heavy. “Buck?”

“Hmm..?”

“I didn’t thank you for my presents.” He rubs his silken leg against Bucky’s bare one. “Thank you. I love them.”

“I think you thanked me plenty, Stevie,” Bucky laughs softly. “Though if that’s what I get for just garters and lipstick, I can’t wait to see what happens when I bring a pretty dress home for my best gal.”

Steve tingles and rubs his cheek against Bucky’s shoulder contentedly. For all his filthy words earlier, Bucky’s voice rings pure. There’s no teasing, just acceptance, love, and a lingering promise for the future, for their future.

Steve smiles as a soft grumbling sounds in Bucky’s belly, and feels Bucky press a kiss into his sweat-damp hair. Bucky shifts, and Steve locks his arms around him. “Nuh-uh, stay here.”

Bucky runs his hands down Steve’s back. “I’m starvin’, Stevie. Sweet as you are, gotta eat something other than you tonight.”

Steve’s cheeks burn happily as he reaches to pull a pillow from beside Bucky, whops him in the face with it. Steve falls back in a fit of laughter at the stunned look on Bucky’s face, his back hitting the mattress, legs resting on Bucky’s thighs.

Bucky pounces on top of him, large body hovering above small. One hand restrains Steve’s arms above his head, the other coming to rake down his side, tickling his ribs. Steve’s legs lock around Bucky’s waist, trying to leverage himself away from wriggling fingers. His laughter turns to hiccuping howls, gasping for breath before Bucky’s fingers finally stop their motions. A shiver runs down Steve’s spine, laid out naked under Bucky, his hands bound above his head, breathing heavily, feeling the gentle swell of Bucky’s renewed interest growing slowly against him.

With all the ways their relationship has changed recently, Steve had been worried that things would shift between them. But with Bucky above him, eyes shining down at him, those beautiful lips tipped up, familiarity settles over Steve. Nothing has changed, just _grown_. He sighs happily and stretches up to catch Bucky’s lips.

“Fine, go,” Steve murmurs, “make yourself dinner, then bring yourself back here so I can have dessert.” He tugs his lower lip between his teeth and looks up at Bucky coyly. 

Bucky’s lips bruise against his, growling when Steve nips at his tongue gently. Bucky pulls away, running his tongue over his lips, looking suddenly hungry for something more than just dinner. “Deal.”


	5. Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being together isn't as hard as Steve thought it would be. Or hard at all, really.  
In public, they're still just Steve and Bucky, best friends, jointed at the hip; inseparable. Just like they've always been, just as Steve knows in his heart they will always be. Their secret smiles and stolen touches bloom into lingering caresses and greedy kisses at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually a bit sad to leave these two, I've grown rather attached. If you've got this far, thank you for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

Steve’s life had never been smooth sailing, the water frequently choppy, horizon littered with storm clouds more often than clear skies and high winds. He had learned to weather what was blown his way in the very best way he was able, but it was his experiences that shaped his expectations, and like castles built on sand, he had waited for his happiness with Bucky to crumble and wash away. But as the days bled into weeks, and weeks blurred into months, their bond only strengthened, deepened, impervious to the waves of time that washed over and crashed around them.

  
  
Steve shifts next to Bucky on the sand, their arms stretching out behind them, pressing close together, leaning on each other. Bucky’s fingers snag his, entwining them discretely in the sand. The air around them is buoyed with excited chattering, ringing laughter, and the occasional scream drifting over from the direction of The Cyclone. Steve tilts his face up to the sky, the golden rays of summer warm his skin, but it is no match for the flames of happiness licking pleasantly inside his chest.

“I’m gonna go get an ice-cream, you want one?” Bucky’s fingers squeeze his gently.

Steve nods but pushes Bucky gently with his shoulder. “Yeah, try not to drop it this time, Buck. Sand-flavor isn’t my favorite.”

Bucky returns the nudge affectionately before straightening. “Ungrateful punk.”

Steve’s smile overflows, filling his eyes as he looks up at Bucky, the sun a golden halo around his dark hair. He burns the image into his mind, resolving to draw it later, an ethereal memory made tangible. “Clumsy jerk.” 

Bucky’s laughter drifts back to him as he walks away. Steve watches him go, the flames in his chest growing impossibly larger.

  
. . .

  
When Steve catches Bucky’s eyes wandering over a dame, fluttering down her body, tracing the dress clinging to her skin, he smiles softly to himself. There’s no painful tightening in his chest, no acidic jealousy burning his throat. He doesn’t question Bucky’s feelings for him anymore. Bucky’s love had sparked and caught like a match inside him, filling him with light, burning away the nagging doubts and creeping fears hiding in the shadows of his mind.

His trust is rewarded when those beautiful eyes turn on him. “I think that would look good on you, Stevie,” Bucky murmurs lowly, the sound just loud enough to catch his ear. “You look so pretty in red.”

Steve flushes a pale imitation of the dress -Bucky’s favorite color- as a large hand swallows up his own, and tugs him toward the door. Eager feet dance over uneven ground, eating up the distance between them and the tantalizing promise of home, breathless laughter trailing behind them.  
  


And that’s how things go.  
  


Being together isn’t as hard as Steve thought it would be. Or hard at all, really.

In public, they’re still just _Steve and Bucky_, best friends, jointed at the hip, inseparable. Like they’ve always been, just as Steve knows in his heart they will _always_ be. Their secret smiles and stolen touches bloom into lingering caresses and greedy kisses at home.

Sometimes he adorns his skin with pretty things -some he’s bought himself, but mostly gifts from Bucky– and he relishes being Bucky’s girl, his fantasies a pallid imitation of the resplendent reality. Bucky makes him feel pretty, delicate, cherished. Whispering dirty things, pressing kisses into his skin, making Steve burn up from the inside out.

And sometimes, he is happy to be just Steve, and Bucky loves him all the same. Soft and delicate gives way to hard and desperate, that filthy mouth scorching him the same, moaning his name like a prayer, lost in the soaring bliss of each other’s embrace.

The unstoppable force of Bucky’s unconditional love and irrevocable acceptance is matched only by Steve’s fierce return devotion.

He knows Bucky loves him, every part of him. Every thought, every desire, every heartbeat. Bucky cherishes the skin he’s in, and everything wrapped up inside it. The knowledge has made him come to understand that he doesn’t need to mark himself as either, or, he doesn’t need to wonder whether he feels like a dame or a fella, and he doesn’t need to pick or choose, because he is both and so much more... he is _Bucky’s_.

And, he sighs happily, drawing soft patterns against the solid heat of Bucky’s chest -his whole world warm and slumbering beneath his fingertips- _Bucky is his._

**Author's Note:**

> A got bit by a plot bunny. I hope you like the fic, comments more than welcome. <3
> 
> Title from a Sarah Mclachlan song. Kind of thought it fit.


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